


almost never

by girlsarewolves



Category: Skinwalkers (2006)
Genre: F/M, First Person, Gen, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pipe dream came true; now she's left with her own that never can, never will. Post.</p>
            </blockquote>





	almost never

**Author's Note:**

> Written years ago, like pretty much all of my Skinwalkers fic. The summary references a line of script dialogue, where Sonja refers to the half-blood prophecy as 'a pipe dream'. Movie canon compliant, though slightly au.

* * *

"Why aren't you happy? Your fears were all proven wrong. You're free of them now. Shouldn't you be happy?"

I can't help but smile at the sincerity of his question; without any spite or sarcasm, his words are honest and open and touching. Yet the effort the expression takes tells me I can't make the smile reach my eyes.

He looks so concerned even as he looks so perfect.

I've never seen him like this before. I've never seen him look so…pure.

Or maybe this is how I've always seen him, since the moment he saved me. Since the moment he gave me life with a kiss full of fangs; teeth sinking so deep in my neck it's like part of him always stayed there, just under the skin. Perhaps this is how I've always viewed him.

He looks beautiful. So beautifully concerned about me.

The sight makes me want to cry.

"Why aren't you happy?" he asks me again. His voice is soft and gentle even though they come out inhumanly guttural.

If wolves could speak…oh, I know they would sound as beautiful as he does.

"Because this never lasts."

He smiles then, and I wonder if his bittersweet smile mirrors my own. "I know." The claws tipping his fingers delicately brush strands of hair from my eyes, and he leans forward; close enough that I can almost smell him.

I remember hearing that the sense closest tied to memory is your sense of smell, and I know it's true.

"I miss you."

"I know," he whispers. He kisses me and I can almost feel it. I can almost taste that musky, wild tang that is purely his.

I know I'm crying, because my cheeks feel wet, and I start to claw at his skin that I can almost touch. I don't have much more time with him, and it breaks my heart, because I'm closer to him than I have been in so, so long.

Than I have been since the last time he was real.

"Be happy," he whispers and starts to fade; like a wolf becoming a man becoming a shade. "You're alive, and you're free. It's what you wanted." And he's gone.

I wake from a world of silver moonlit woods to the dank, dark, abandoned home I hide away in while my wounds heal. The tears I shed in my dreams are the only things that last.

And I never get to tell him; "All I want is you."


End file.
